


on blue tongues and finger tape

by myn_x



Series: ♡✧:｡Kinktober 2017｡:✧♡ [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anonymous Sex, Blow Jobs, Glory Hole, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-08 23:04:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12263898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myn_x/pseuds/myn_x
Summary: Eita's tired of cryjerking and having terrible sex with his ex.A local glory hole will surely relieve some of the tension, right?





	on blue tongues and finger tape

**Author's Note:**

> i was really hankering to write some tensemi and i saw glory hole on my list and the Urge(tm) carried me this far
> 
> i hope this is a passable attempt at GH because quite a bit of *ahem* informative research went into this aaaaaaaand i almost crashed my damn computer with all the tabs i had open. still, ive never used a glory glory hallelujah hole so by no means is this meant to be 100% realistic
> 
> also, there's some crack. it's tendou, so there was bound to be some crack

Eita was more than sick of the rhythm of his own hand. He stared down at his palm, contemplating whether to call his ex for more borderline hate sex, which had ironically become just as routine as getting himself off had started to feel. It was less work with another person in the equation, but he didn't want to come only to have it spoiled by another pointless screaming match.

So Eita reached for the bottle of lube instead of his phone, anticipating what would be yet another futile, robotic attempt at quieting the urge to fuck, anything to still the restlessness that was driving him positively stir-crazy.

He'd squeeze the lube into his hand, not even bothering to warm the chilly substance, the bite of it against his dick making him grimace. Smearing it over his shaft, he'd tease at his foreskin before stroking himself off slowly, gradually increasing the pace, the flick of his thumb with every upward drag enough to make the breath hiss between his teeth -- not with pleasure, exactly, but with something approaching relief. Which was still a stretch.

What Eita needed was the hot pressure of someone's walls squeezing around him as they rode him, or maybe the curl of their tongue against the underside of his length, but it literally sucked to imagine it because all he could picture was his ex sneering up at him, a huge turn-off that defeated the purpose of sticking his hand in his boxers.

Masturbating didn't even feel good at that point, probably because Eita had taken to whacking off virtually every time he caught himself with nothing else to do. It crept up on him when he had flopped onto the couch after class, and when he lay awake at night -- not that it helped him fall asleep anymore. He'd splatter all over his hand and stomach, but there was never the bone-deep satisfaction of a really good orgasm that carried into his dreams.

Eita looked down at the nearly empty bottle in his hands, which had stopped feeling like adequate compensation. He could use his fleshlight -- he did get off faster with it, but it was only marginally better than his palm, just on the cusp of feeling like the real thing. What sense was there in reaching a mediocre orgasm that made him wish he hadn't even bothered? Fuck if Eita wasn't tired of settling for mediocre.

Better to be miserable and spent than miserable and pent up, though, right?

Eita couldn't remember when he started jacking off just to try to take the edge off of a loneliness that carved him hollow. He just knew that he missed having sex that felt good. But he didn't do casual and could no longer stomach sleeping with someone he despised, if only because he had to angrily wash his sheets afterward to soothe his bruised pride, which was more trouble than a shitty orgasm was worth.

He could start dating again, but that took a special kind of effort he didn't think he could muster, especially when the thought alone exhausted him.

He had a few friends that he'd fucked around with before, and knew someone who definitely wouldn't mind a few rounds in his bed, but...still. He didn't want to deal with the mess when he inevitably became too attached to maintain the necessary façade of disinterest outside of sex.

" _Fuck_ ," Eita choked, cum spilling over his fist as the glide of his hand dumped him unceremoniously over the edge. 

 

Eita's answer fell into his lap one day before his stats class started. He wasn't keen on socializing so early in the morning, so he sat at his desk and scrolled through old messages on his phone, clearing out the stuff he no longer needed. Used to tuning out the noisy chatter of his peers, he would have missed the solution to his woes if the group of guys just behind him hadn't stirred up a slight commotion over it.

From what Eita could pick out from their rowdy conversation, two of them had met at one of the grittier bars in town for drinks the night before. One of them had been running a little late, and when he'd walked in he'd seen the other sauntering out of the bathroom red-faced and with his belt still partially unbuckled.

As they waited for their beverages, the one who'd gotten there first told the other that he’d decided to try out one of the bar's more clandestine amenities while he waited. He boasted that it was the best head he'd ever gotten, to which his buddies joked that he probably didn't have many experiences to choose from. His smug reply: "Get blown at a glory hole, you'll see."

Getting blown at a glory hole struck Eita as an embarrassingly obvious fix, but the more he thought about it, the more it became the only practical choice, given his hang-ups about dating and need for physicality with another person. He was well enough aware of glory holes to know they were the lowest rung on the no-strings-attached ladder. It was a desperate measure, but these were indeed desperate times.

 

Before Eita lost his nerve or talked himself out of going, he reminded himself that the beauty of a glory hole was in the anonymity it offered. It was just parts, his dick in someone's hands or mouth or even ass -- the latter only if they were both willing, and he brought a condom just in case.

Eita knew the person on the other side either wanted to get off as badly as he did, or only sought the pleasure of getting him off, or both. _That_ was what mattered, what had Eita’s feet carrying him across the questionably damp asphalt leading up to the bar.

  

Eita didn't manage to catch the name of the establishment his peers had gone to, but some googling when he got back to his room yielded an array of opportunities, more than he would have guessed would be so close to campus.

He'd picked the least seedy-sounding of the bunch, but when he arrived the night after he was met with the stench of sweaty bodies steeped in cheap alcohol and cigarette smoke, the low hum of the bass line pouring from the speakers underscoring the boisterous antics of the clientele.

Eyes scanning for the restroom, Eita made his way over to the bartender for something to help him relax -- and because it felt wrong to come here just to get his dick sucked and leave without any patronage. He sidestepped a jovial but heated argument over the best kind of pet for a someone who wanted some fluffy companionship, silently agreeing with the side favoring cats.

While the bartender prepared his drink, Eita scoped out the people around him, wondering if any of them were there for the restroom at the back, the outline of which he could hardly make out in the dim lighting, his promised land.

He stifled a mirthless laugh and a bubble of panic rose in his stomach, but it was short-lived as the bartender slid him his vodka tonic, which he nursed until his nerves settled back into calmer territory.

 

Inside the stall, the din of the barroom was nothing but background noise.  
  
Eita thought it was surprisingly tidy for a grungy pub toilet that doubled as a rendezvous point for anonymous fucking. The only thing that marked it for what it was was the glaring hole in the metal panel separating the stalls, complete with grimy duct tape and obscene graffiti in faded marker.  
  
Standing there with his heart racing, part of him wanted to just flush and bolt. So much for trying to keep his cold feet warm with alcohol. The hole seemed to watch him as his fingers twitched toward his zipper -- since etiquette said he should at least be ready -- when he realized the adjoining stall was already occupied.  
  
Eita considered the hole quizzically. He couldn't see them, but the person hummed an off-key tune that was totally at odds with their surroundings and purpose for being there.  
  
Things were already off to a weird start, but oddly enough it gave Eita the nudge he needed to take the condom from his pocket and unzip his jeans so that they dropped to his ankles. He pushed his boxers down enough to stroke himself to hardness, wincing slightly at the dry chafe of his palm.  
  
When they abruptly stopped humming, Eita knew he had their attention. He heard shuffling, and then two taped fingers appeared in the hole and stroked the bottom edge, a crude gesture that brought a flush to Eita’s cheeks.  
  
The longer he was there the more he realized how unprepared he was. And why tape of all things? It brought the ludicrous image of a mummy blowing him to mind, but he shook the thought from his head, also dislodging a vague memory of wrapping raw, reddened fingers with tape that popped like a soap bubble.  
  
_Stop it. No more unsexy thoughts._ Swallowing thickly, Eita shifted closer, about to angle his dick toward the hole when the sight of the other's expectant bright blue tongue made him pause.  
  
They waggled it tauntingly and Eita's cock twitched, ever the traitor that it was.  
  
"Blueberry sours. Want some?" they asked.  
  
“Um.” This hadn't been in any of the comment threads Eita had pored over, and he wasn't sure he liked the idea of sours being anywhere near the mouth about to be wrapped around his cock. Not to mention the sour time he'd have if he caught something from a stranger. He considered the condom for all of two seconds before tearing the package open with his teeth and rolling the rubber onto his erection.  
  
A low chuckle reached Eita's ears. Then a cheery, "Ready whenever you are."  
  
The voice tickled at the back of Eita's mind, but he wasn't there to dwell on minutiae. _To hell with it then._ Eita edged closer to the metal and put himself through the hole, gasping quietly when the other gripped him at the base and pressed the flat of their blue tongue to the tip, teasing him through the condom.  
  
They pulled off but kept stroking him as they purred, "Awww, I wish it were blueberry flavored. Or that I could _really_ taste you."  
  
Eita's shock dissolved into pleasure when they took him into his mouth in earnest. It was all the tightness he'd been craving, the velvet press of their lips and tongue on every upward drag making him groan in satisfaction. Their pace was languid as they adjusted to his girth and length, hand working in tandem with their mouth, and once they adjusted to him they bobbed faster and took him deeper, the head of his cock nearly breaching their throat, over and over again.

Wet, sloppy sounds echoed off the walls amid Eita’s labored panting as he fisted his hands against the cold metal separator, chin dropping to his chest, a moan escaping his throat every time their tongue slipped over the tip. Even with the condom dulling some of the sensation, he was far too close so soon. He could feel it in the way his balls rose, in the tautness of his gut, and was glad the other party couldn’t see how he was reacting to a simple blow job: blood thundering in his ears, a flush that spread down his neck, his thin control on the movement of his hips threatening to snap, and then he’d be fucking their throat raw.

Eita could cry. It felt so fucking _good_ , made his knees _weak_ \-- he’d nearly forgotten what it felt like to stick his dick into the warm, moist, narrow heat of someone who actually cared to give him what he wanted, instead of using him to chase their own gratification. He didn’t mind reciprocating, but there was liberation in giving up control to someone who was so willing to please, who swallowed his cock down far enough that their nose must have been pressed to the partition as they choked around him.

And then the sweet suction around his length disappeared. "You should let me hear how much you're enjoying it, love," they rasped.

They replaced their lips around his cock again before Eita could give proper reply. “Not-- not here to t--talk,” he said through gritted teeth.

They laughed -- _laughed_ \-- around his dick, and the reverberations sent waves of frission across his skin, and he swore he could their lips curl into a smug grin as they resumed working their mouth over him.    
  
On every drag up his shaft, he could feel the pressure of their tongue forcing his head to brush against the roof of their mouth as they almost, but not quite pulled off, lingering to flick their tongue against his slit before sinking back down again. Miraculously, there was not a hint of teeth -- just a soft, vise-like warmth that made black stars dance in his vision. He closed his eyes against the dazing effect that it -- having his brain sucked out through his dick in a dingy bathroom by an enthusiastic, tireless stranger -- had on him.  

It was wet, wet, _wet_ ; his cock was drenched with spit, which only made their mouth more slippery, the glide more perfect. There was no helping the roll of his hips to meet the drag and pull of the stranger's mouth, his thrusts causing his knees to knock against the metal, which only added to the filthy sounds all around them. If anyone walked in on them, the scene would have explained itself, but Eita was too far gone on the pleasure to find it in himself to give a fuck.  
  
Throwing his head back with a throaty groan, Eita felt his fingers tense and relax with the subconscious urge to slide them into the other’s hair and tug, guiding their rhythm as they rose around and sunk down on his cock. But it was as if they knew his preference for short and fast strokes that eased into slow, silky teasing. Knew that he liked an onslaught of stimulation, lots of attention paid to his head from where it peeked from beneath his foreskin.

He wouldn’t last. His legs trembled, the taut feeling in his belly overwhelming in its urgency, and he slapped his palm against the partition in warning, almost forgetting about the condom.

 _Wait, what? This joker made me almost fucking_ forget _the fucking condom, what in the fuck kind of enchanted head game_ \--

Eita pulled back enough to snatch the condom off with a grunt, replacing himself at the hole to stroke off onto the slightly less blue but just as eager tongue awaiting him, as if waiting to be fed. He braced himself with his free forearm and his lips fell open into a silent o as he came _hard_ , his cock spasming as he spurted into the stranger’s willing mouth, two long bursts followed by a few shorter gushes.

Once the rushing in his ears died down, Eita could make out the soft moans of his faceless partner amid an unmistakable fluttering noise, then the choked off whine that signaled their own orgasm. Listening to them kindled the dying embers of his arousal, and he stowed the memory away for later.

Squeezing down his shaft to make sure he gave the other every last drop, Eita panted against the metal, its coolness soothing his overheated body. Then he let go of his softening length and tried to regain his breath, but their session had knocked the wind from him like he’d just sprinted a mile. It occurred to him that he should pick up running again.

“Wow, that was-- I just--” The etiquette guide hadn’t said anything about conversation, but after such a figurative dry spell (was it _really_ dry, when he came as often as he did?) Eita couldn’t quite contain the afterglow. Even if what led up to it had been largely impersonal.  

“Good, huh?” The disembodied voice was different now, hoarse.

Eita felt a little smug knowing he was the reason for the cracks in their words, even if he wasn’t acquainted with the person. “Yeah.”

“But not good enough that you would remember, evidently,” the other said and followed it with a deep sigh. Then, “It’s good to see-- err, well, blow you again, I guess, Semi Semi.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> ive made so many glory hole puns the past couple of days. count yourselves lucky i have a shred of restraint
> 
> original prompt list: [☆](https://ohmykokuroo.tumblr.com/post/164156385511/kinktober-2017)
> 
> my picks (NOT in order): [♡](https://ohmykokuroo.tumblr.com/post/165843243141/hi-hello-kinktober-is-nearly-upon-us-so-its-time)
> 
> [tumblr](http://fucklev.tumblr.com) || [twitter](https://twitter.com/lovedeluxxxe)


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